


Afterimage

by Evandar



Series: Supernatural Drabbles and Ficlets [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s02e15 Tall Tales, Gen, Psychic Sam, post-episode AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4127820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evandar/pseuds/Evandar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants an explanation as to <i>why</i> an angel just killed someone with an alligator in a sewer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterimage

He blinked once, twice, because the janitor had _wings_. Three huge pairs of them arching up out of his shoulders and filling the room; vanishing through the walls and floors because they were too big to spread out. Feathers made of golden light, the colour of summer sunlight, drifted in a breeze that he couldn’t feel. 

Then he blinked a third time and the wings were gone, leaving a dazzling afterimage in his mind’s eye. 

The janitor smirked at him, thin lips twisting in a way that made him look pointy, and turned away to lead them up the stairs to the dead professor’s office. The artificial lights in the stairway glinted briefly off a crown on his head – as golden as his wings – before that too was hidden from his Sight.

…

“Why do you do it?” he asked. 

The janitor peered at him past a curtain of golden feathers; honey-brown eyes suddenly serious. It was an odd look on him. Not that Sam knew him at all past ‘murderous angel’, but he’d spent the past few days laughing and joking and _hell_ , he’d killed someone with an alligator in a sewer. If nothing else, he had a sense of humour. That was why Bobby had dubbed him a Trickster and Dean had shoved a stake through his heart; it was because he was an _angel_ that Sam hadn’t corrected them. And now here he was, sitting drinking with the guy, trying to figure out…something. Something that would help him understand what was going on.

“I mean, you’re an angel.”

The janitor snorted. “Right,” he said. “You even read the Bible, kiddo? We ain’t exactly fluffy Hallmark types.” He downed a purple nurple and turned his gaze to the empty shot glass, looking at it expectantly until it refilled itself. “Besides, I’m the Angel of Justice – doing it Old Testament style with a twist.” He downed the second shot. “I’m _Gabriel_.”

His wings and crown – halo – chose that moment to fade from view again, making him look both very human and very tired. Sam chose not to argue. He wanted to believe in a loving, caring God – the New Testament God – but evidence was kind of pointing in the other direction. At least, the evidence provided by the archangel next to him was pointing that way.

“It’s free will,” the Gabriel said after a moment. “Daddy-o gave you lot free will so that you could go and do whatever you wanted. Favourite kids that you are.” He rolled his eyes and refilled his shot glass. “So you’ve got to learn that exercising that free will can lead to bad places.”

“And slow-dancing aliens,” Sam added. 

Gabriel smiled his pointy smile again, halo glinting briefly back into view. “Classic,” he said.


End file.
